


Spark

by KAZ1167



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: A little oral sex, Book 1 Korra characterization, F/M, First Meetings, Sex, Smut, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:59:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KAZ1167/pseuds/KAZ1167
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they meet, there's an undeniable spark, a tension that only finds resolution when they sneak away to the safety of an empty office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spark

**Author's Note:**

> I’m inclined to say this is slightly an AU, since it’s essentially a whole new take on the first time they meet, but it’s still within the same LoK universe. Also, I was writing Korra more like her early Book 1-self than the far more patient and developed character we see at the end of Book 2.

It is her third time in Republic City and her itinerary consists of attending a handful of events and discussing political issues with the President before returning to the Southern Water Tribe. Three days into her trip, everything is going smoothly; only one more event before she can leave the over-crowded, polluted city and return home for a brief respite from her duties as the Avatar.

Tonight’s schedule revolves around a gala for the police department, celebrating some odd number of decades since its development. She’s already late to the event, but she prays that she will be able to divert attention away from herself for long enough to escape the dull ordeal.

As she walks into the reception hall, she notes a handful of familiar faces, but doesn’t bother with aimless chitchat. She spots Chief Beifong standing in the shadow of a marble pillar and crosses over to the one woman she can stand for more than five minutes while at these events. 

“Chief Beifong, good to see you.”

“Ah, Avatar Korra. Good to see you as well. How long can we expect the pleasure of your company tonight?” 

“Haven’t decided yet. Care to point out the back exits to me ahead of time?” Despite her position, she’s known for lacking the patience to last an entire night of schmoozing and liquored-up politicians. She figures everyone can tolerate her brief attendance in exchange for maintaining balance in the world.

Lin rolls her eyes when an unfamiliar man walks up to her, requesting her attention, and Korra hears little of the topic at hand as she takes in the man standing across from her. He doesn’t bother to smile or pander to her presence and it sparks her interest immediately; it’s a nice change in comparison with the overwrought pleasantries of everyone else. She has never seen him before and she is drawn to the set of piercing amber eyes that refuse to shy away from her own when the conversation ends and the Chief introduces her to him.

“Officer Mako, this is Avatar Korra, as I’m sure you know. Mako is one of our most promising officers, despite having only joined the force this past year.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Avatar.” His voice is clipped and completely fitting with the aloof, focused air that surrounds him. He’s tall and not bulkily built, but she can tell by the way his crisp, black suit hugs his broad shoulders that he is probably stronger than he looks. The red scarf around his neck emphasizes the creamy color of his skin and the alluring burn in his golden eyes. His black hair is short and well-managed, even if it does point up oddly in a few places, and she is struck by the desire to run her hands through it, to ruin its perfect appearance.

Another official beckons Lin away and she is left with the man who seems simultaneously disinterested and, if the glow in his eyes is any indication, fascinated with her. The need to engage him, tease him, test the strength of his cool and composed air, rushes through her. 

“Strange for a rookie cop to be called promising. You must be really good at filling out paper work and babysitting your desk.” She leans against the pillar behind her, crossing her arms, and lets the words twist around him, watching the light in his eyes shift and flare. It’s just like prodding the embers beneath a flame and she smirks as his mouth pulls into a tight line.

He steps into the shadow of the pillar, his palm pressing against the cool marble beside her waist. The shrinking space between them speaks of an untested heat, a tension that has arisen unexpectedly, a need that must be satisfied. She doesn’t know what it is about him; sure, he’s attractive, but there are plenty of other eligible men clamoring for her attention and she hasn’t been interested in any of them. With him, there is some kind of pull, like a flame coiling around her and drawing her in, dragging her toward a heat she doesn’t want to resist.

“Remind me, was it during the first or second time you visited Republic City that you crashed a satomoblie into a shopkeeper’s window front and destroyed an entire street? That doesn’t seem like very ‘promising’ behavior for the Avatar.” His mouth twists into a smirk of his own as the heat in his gaze grows and she feels a bit like his prey. She’s momentarily caught off guard, but his teasing words only tempt her more, make her determined to switch their positions and claim him as her prey.

“But I’m always on my best behavior, Officer.” She pulls at the edges of the scarf, drawing his face closer to hers, her lips just brushing against the smooth edge of his jaw, just below his ear.

He shifts slightly and glances at the crowd that seems oblivious to their entire affair. She catches his eyes once, the full-roar of a promising fire in their golden depths sending a surge of wanting through her, before he’s tugging at her hand, leading her down the warmly lite hallway of the ornate building. He tries the door to an office that is—hopefully—far enough from the pressing attention of the gala’s attendees and pulls her into the room.

Her back slams against the door and she can hear the drone of the crowd permeating the room through the thin walls, but his mouth latches onto hers, his tongue headily pushing against her own, and her attention shifts away from trivial thoughts about propriety and “professional” conduct. She grips at his neck, the fabric of his scarf warm in her hands, and groans as his hands trace down her waist, his thumbs trailing down the taught muscles of her stomach, before grasping her hips. 

The warmth of his hand momentarily leaves her and she hears the click of a lock before his hand tangles in her hair as he tilts her head back and takes in more of her mouth. He smells faintly like smoke and dry earth, and she’s addicted to the lingering taste of champagne on his lips. They break apart, the silence of the room peppered with their heavy, quick, breathes, before his lips move to kiss and suck wantonly on the sensitive nape of her neck, the ridge of her exposed collarbone.

“Someone’s pretty eager,” he laughs, as she pushes against the suit jacket and it hits the floor with a soft thud. Her hands continue rushing with the buttons of his dress shirt, seeking the heat of his skin. He tugs on the zipper at her back, the navy blue fabric gaping as he pushes the straps of the dress off her shoulders, each graze of his hands against her skin sending a burning shiver through her body. 

“Like you’re any better.” She kicks off the heeled shoes she hates and steps out of the garment, letting it pool at her feet, as he pulls off the open shirt. His mouth is upon hers once more and the feeling of his bare skin against hers overwhelms her senses. His arms wrap around her, one across her back and the other beneath her thighs, as she wraps her legs around his hips, the friction between them far too pleasant. He carries her over to the desk behind them, only releasing her legs when her back meets the cool, wooden surface and he presses against her, eliciting a moan from both of them.

She takes in the sculpted chest above her, dragging her nails down each prominent muscle, and relishes in the way his breath hitches when she reaches the edge of his slacks. His mouth leaves her own to kiss down her neck before his lips find the curve of her breast, covered by the flexible material of her modern bra, and his hand wantonly takes hold of the other. Pushing the fabric aside, his tongue sucks and kisses the newly exposed skin and she moans loudly, her back arching into his mouth, seeking more, before his hand slides down her stomach to rub against her core through the thin fabric of her underwear.

He shouldn’t be this adept at making her this hot, this needy for his touch, but she doesn’t fight it when he kisses down her stomach, his mouth searing her sensitive skin. She smiles in silly satisfaction when she runs her fingers through his hair and tugs, disturbing its manicured appearance, as he places open-mouthed kisses against her hip, down her thigh, before trailing back up the inside of her thigh and stopping just before he reaches the place she desperately needs more of his touch. She moans her displeasure and he laughs through his smirk, his warm breath ghosting across the apex of her thigh, before she lifts her hips slightly and he slips her underwear off.

She sits up as he stands, her hands undoing his belt and the zipper of his pants as she wetly kisses his chest. She runs her hand up the length of him once, twice, through his boxers, watching as his head tilts back slightly and a clipped groan breaks from him. She slides the offending clothing down his hips before it falls to ground, and she’s tempted to wrap her mouth around him, just to see how far she can take him, can make him melt under her control. So she does. 

“Shit, Korra—” Just the sound of her name escaping his lips, his voice gravely and broken, makes her moan around him. His hands curl in her hair and she’s tempted to make him finish like this, but her own need for satisfaction overrides her impulse. Maybe another time... She pulls her mouth away with a wet popping sound and, in a split second, he is frantically kissing her, his body pushing her back down against the table, his length sliding into her. 

Something between a moan and a gasp that vaguely sounds like his name crosses her lips and she grasps at his back, needing to feel the heat of his chest against her own. He begins pushing against her, his thrusts escalating to a fevered pace she’s thankful for because she needs release now, needs to hear her name from his lips again.

“I’m cl—“

“So am I,” she whispers against his neck, cutting him off. She’s so close, so close to quelling the fire that’s been burning in her since she first laid eyes on him. She kisses him, hard, wanting to taste him, swallow his sounds, steal as much as she can from this moment, as he pushes her over the edge with a few more thrusts and she feels the release, the satisfaction, the heat she’s been craving from him run through her body as she comes. He follows quickly as his mouth breaks from hers and her name rushes from his mouth against her neck and shoulder. 

They stay joined together for a moment more as their breathing steadies and the heated moment fades, before he pulls out and she sits up on the scattered desk. The sound of the neglected gala fades back into her ears, no longer muted by moans and wanting breathes. He bends down to pick his discarded clothing up off the floor and she follows the muscles in his back with her gaze, noticing the light red streaks etched across his skin from her nails. Just seeing them makes her want to pull him back down, start all over again. He stands up and tosses something to her, her hands instinctively catching their target, before she realizes it’s her underwear.

“Thought you might want those,” he states in his aloof tone, but the cocked eyebrow and laughing smirk on his face give him away. 

“How thoughtful of you.” She offers a smirk of her own as slides the undergarment on and crosses to him, his eyes watching her as his hands begin buttoning his shirt. This spark between them is unlike anything she’s ever felt before and she isn’t ready to let it go. She places one hand on his neck and pulls him into an impassioned kiss, his hands immediately moving to her hips and pulling her closer. He breaks the kiss first and he sounds slightly out of breath when he speaks again.

“If you keep this up, we won’t make it out of this room.”

“But this is so much better than being out there.” She reluctantly leaves his embrace and pouts at him as she stalks over to the neglected navy dress at the door. “You know, we could just sneak out. Someone might notice us, but I’m only here for one more night anyways. I don’t really care if someone sees us.” She pulls the silken fabric up over her hips and zips halfway up the back, before she feels his hands on hers. 

“So you’re leaving tomorrow?” She nods in response and he finishes pulling the zipper up her back and slides his hands down her shoulders, shoulder blades, the small of her back, before pulling her flush against him.

“Then I guess we’d better get out of here.” His breath is warm on her neck and his lips brush against her ear, sending a shiver up her spine. She turns to kiss him and can feel the smile on his lips, before she’s pulling him out the door, the gala forgotten.

~

The next day, when she boards the ship back to the Southern Water Tribe, she starts planning her next visit to Republic City. She still thinks the city is over-crowded, polluted, and full of busybodies she can’t stand, but the young officer who sees her off in the morning, even bothers to stay until the ship leaves the harbor, seems like reason enough to come back.


End file.
